


Alton Park After Dark

by Dumbothepatronus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Amusement Parks, Angst, Breaking and Entering, Divorce, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Hogwarts, The Two Towers, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dumbothepatronus/pseuds/Dumbothepatronus
Summary: Marietta Edgecombe had never cared much for Alton Towers, least of all "Gangster Granny," the cheesiest ride in amusement park history. And yet, here she was, clutching a silver urn under her fur-lined cloak as to protect it from the freezing December air. As if it was even worth protecting.
Relationships: Roger Davies/Marietta Edgecombe
Kudos: 2





	Alton Park After Dark

Marietta Edgecombe had never cared much for Alton Towers, least of all “Gangster Granny,” the cheesiest ride in amusement park history. That had been Roger’s vice—the fast-moving roller coasters, the screaming children, the sticky cotton candy that lingered on the roof of your mouth long after you’d finished the cone. And yet, here she was, clutching a silver urn under her fur-lined cloak as to protect it from the freezing December air. As if it was even worth protecting.

Cho shot her a sympathetic look. “Invisibility charm? Or notice-me-not?” 

Marietta shrugged. “It’s not like there’s anybody here. Park’s closed for the winter.” She fiddled with her wand; this was silly. She should just Apparate home. But then she remembered the empty wooden shelves, recently cleared of Roger’s microscope collection. She remembered the tree they’d planted on their wedding day, whose leaves now stitched a canopy of green over their cottage’s shabby shingles.

With a swallow, she stepped forward through the gates.

Cho’s breath filled the air with white steam, matching the streaks age had painted down her curtain of ebony hair, as she hobbled along beside her. “So where to?” Her eyes roamed over the watchtower ticket station, over its empty queue and boarded-shut windows. 

Marietta sighed. “I hate to say it, but it’s got to be Gangster Granny.”

Cho’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you just say… never mind. It’s your funeral.”

The way the ice clung to the rails of the roller coasters, dripped into sharpened spears at the edge of the rooftops, it seemed very much like a funeral indeed. In a way, Marietta supposed it was. A funeral of her hopes, of her dreams. Of the self-confidence she’d found when Roger Davies, handsome and intelligent and charismatic, had dropped to one knee on the pavement and gazed into her eyes.

Alton Towers had been warm then, buzzing with the excitement of tourists and families and young couples in love. Now it was as silent as their once happy home.

They stopped in front of a garishly painted building and stared at the places where the paint had cracked, where patrons had stuck gum to the sidewalk for lack of a nearby trash can. 

“It was new then,” said Marietta. “Roger was so excited to ride it, he insisted we visit on the opening weekend.” 

It seemed like a lifetime ago. Once upon a time, when Marietta Edgecombe had been worthy—when at least one person had been willing to take a hard look at her flaws, at her scars and cowardice, and love her despite them. With everything she wasn’t, was it any surprise it had fallen apart?

Cho grabbed her hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “You ready for this?”

Marietta laughed, and even she could hear the darkness in it. “I didn’t get much of a choice, did I?”

“No. And neither did I.” Cho’s eyes were faraway, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine who she was remembering.

Marietta bamboozled the building’s security cameras with the spell she’d practiced that morning, then trudged over to the ride carriage, a boxy red affair with golden handrails. “It’s different. Nobody would ever blame you for Cedric’s death.”

“True. And it wasn’t as if I’d been married to him for twenty years.” She slid into the ride vehicle and patted the empty spot next to her. 

In other circumstances it might have been spooky, sneaking into the park during the off-season. But even with the clownish illustrations grinning down at them from the painted halls, it wasn’t fear that made Marietta huddle closer to Cho’s side. 

Cho held her wand out and tapped on the handrails, concentration furrowed between her eyebrows. Electric blue sparks lit up the darkened corridor and the car jolted, then began sliding along the track. “There!” said Cho. “Let me know when you’d like to stop.”

The wheels rattled, and they turned the corner into a room overflowing with jewels. “Here! Right here.”

Marietta stood and twisted the lid off of her urn. Inside were ashes, but not Roger’s ashes. Marietta had never been the murdering type, though she’d been mad enough to  _ Avada _ him when she’d caught him in bed with Lavender Brown. No, these were the ashes of their marriage license. The ashes of the love letters he’d sent to her, back when she’d been holed up in the Hospital Wing with Hermione’s face-ruining curse.

She pinched dust between her thumb and forefinger and threw it into the room. 

“Oh, sure,” said Cho. “Take your time. It’s not as if Muggles could appear at any moment and haul us off.”

“Cast a notice-me-not if you’re so worried. And was the sarcasm really needed?”

“Absolutely. In fact, we’re going to need about two hundred percent more sarcasm in here. Roger Davies is no angel. And you know what? He never deserved you anyway.”

Cho pushed to her feet and snatched the urn from Marietta’s hands. Recklessly, she grabbed a handful and threw it at a giant emerald painted onto the wall. “That’s for cheating on my best friend!”

With a wry smile, Marietta snatched another handful and flung it into the air, like a gnome from a garden. “That’s for all the late nights at the Ministry. And for the Kneazle you forbade me from adopting.”

“There you go. That’s the spirit.”

“Here’s for never eating your vegetables! What grown man picks olives off of his pizza?” It was so petty, but as the dust settled on the concrete floor, she felt her heart lighten. She pulled another handful. “And that’s for always reminding me to put a glamor on my scars, even when we were alone in our own home. As if I wasn’t self-conscious enough already.” Despite herself, Marietta swiped a drop of moisture from the corner of her eye.

“You promised! You promised to always love me, to always treat me like a princess. You said you’d steal for me, you’d do anything for me. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t love me; not forever.”

Her fingers scraped the bottom of the urn, and her backside hit the padded seat behind her. “That’s it, I suppose.”

Silently, Cho tapped her wand again and the vehicle lurched, all of its pent-up energy releasing at once. For a moment, only the frigid air and her memories surrounded her. The car looped around, and they were suddenly staring at the ride’s beginning. It felt appropriate; her marriage had started here, with Roger’s proposal, and the ashes of it would lay here forever—or at least until the summer crew came to prepare the park for re-opening and swept them away.

Cho tugged her hand, and they stepped out onto the concrete track together.

“Thank you, for being here with me,” said Marietta.

“It was the least I could do, after you stood by my side back in fifth year.” 

Marietta frowned. “It wasn’t anything special; I only did what anyone would do.”

Cho was already shaking her head, a familiar fire burning from her eyes. “Not anyone. You were the only one. When my tears didn’t dry and my shoulders stayed slumped for weeks, for months, everyone left. Even Harry.” Cho rolled her eyes, as if even the memory of him was annoying. “You were always there. You’re the most loyal person I know.”

“Not according to Harry Potter.” Or Ron Weasley. Or Hermione Granger. Or anyone else who’d suffered from her disloyalty during the Dumbledore’s Army incident. No wonder Roger couldn’t love her; who could love a traitor?

“Who cares what he thinks?” Cho stopped and spun to stare straight into Marietta’s eyes. “Nobody can be loyal to everyone—that’s just the cold, hard truth. Sometimes we are put in impossible situations, like you were, and we have to choose between our friends and our family. Back in Hogwarts, you chose your family. If that’s not loyalty, what is?”

Marietta blushed and kicked a pebble across the ground. 

“Come on,” said Cho. “Let’s break out of this creepy Muggle death-trap and go find something warm to drink.” Her eyes went mischievous, and her elbow nudged Marietta’s ribs. “Maybe find you a nice bloke while we’re at it?”

Marietta snorted. “Cho, I’m fifty-five. All the good ones are married.”

“That’s not what I heard. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Terry Boot is a regular silver fox. Plus, he likes to hang out at the Leaky Cauldron on Saturday nights.”

With one last glance at the pavement, at the memory of Roger with love shining from his face like a beam of sunlight, Marietta turned on her heel and nodded her head. “I’m game if you are.”


End file.
